I Married You For Your Brother’s Face

I married the most ruthless Don in Chicago, but not for love, money, or power. I married Luca Falcone because he was the only man on earth who carried the same DNA as his dead identical twin, Dante—the love of my life. For three years, I played the role of the submissive, obsessed wife. I endured his coldness. I cooked for his mistress, Sofia. I even stayed silent when Sofia pushed me down a flight of stairs in a jealous rage, nearly killing me. Luca thought I stayed because I was weak. He thought the way I stared at his face was adoration. He never realized I was looking right through him, seeing the ghost of the brother he could never live up to. But the moment the second pink line appeared on the pregnancy test, my mission was complete. I had secured the heir. I had brought a piece of Dante back to the world. The vessel was no longer needed. I signed the divorce papers, packed my bags, and vanished into the night while Luca was busy with his mistress. When he finally tracked me down months later, broken and begging on his knees for me to come home, I didn't feel a thing. I looked down at the man who thought he was a King and delivered the final blow. "I never loved you, Luca. I married you for the sperm."

Chapters

Chapter 2

The front door slammed with enough force to vibrate through the floorboards and rattle the crystal chandelier in the foyer.

He was home.

I smelled him before I saw him-a volatile cocktail of gunpowder, expensive scotch, and the cloying, floral scent of Sofia's perfume.

Bile rose in my throat, but I forced it down, smoothing the front of my silk dress.

Luca strode into the living room, tearing off his jacket and discarding it onto a chair.

His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, revealing the tattoos that crept up his neck-ink that marked him as a killer, a leader, a king.

He looked exactly like Dante-a cruel joke of the universe.

Every time I looked at him, my heart leaped, only to crash and burn when I saw the cold, dead look in his eyes.

"Where is it?" he demanded, not even sparing me a glance.

"Where is what, Luca?"

"The soup. The herbal blend your grandmother used to make. Sofia is feeling faint. She needs it."

I stood perfectly still.

He wanted me, his wife, to cook for his mistress.

It was a test, a way to see how far I would bend before I broke.

He thought I was obsessed with him. He thought my silence was submission, my presence was devotion. He had no idea I was just biding my time.

"I'm not a maid, Luca," I said softly.

He stopped mid-stride and turned to me.

His eyes were dark, bottomless pits of aggression.

He walked over to me, towering over my frame, using his size to intimidate.

"You are whatever I say you are, Elena. You forced this marriage. You wanted the title of Mrs. Falcone. Now act like it."

He grabbed my chin, tilting my face up. His fingers were rough.

"Make the soup."

My gaze dropped from his eyes to his wrist.

There, glinting under the hallway lights, was a vintage Patek Philippe watch. Leather strap. Gold face.

Dante's watch.

The one I gave him for his twenty-first birthday.

Luca had taken it from Dante's body at the morgue, and now he wore it like a trophy.

"I'll make it," I said, my voice steady.

Luca smirked, releasing my chin. "Good girl."

"On one condition."

His smirk faltered. "You're bargaining with me?"

"I want the watch."

Luca looked down at his wrist, then back at me, a furrow of confusion knitting his brows.

"This old thing? It's out of style. I can buy you a diamond-encrusted Rolex tomorrow."

"I don't want a Rolex," I said. "I want that one."

He laughed, a harsh, barking sound. "You're pathetic, Elena. You want it because it's on my skin? Because it smells like me?"

He began to unbuckle it.

"You love me that much? You want my scraps?"

"Yes," I lied, the words tasting like ash. "I love you that much."

He tossed the watch at me.

I caught it.

The leather was warm from his body heat.

I clutched it tight, my nails digging into the strap, suppressing the urge to bring it to my nose and inhale, hoping a trace of Dante remained beneath the scent of his brother.

"Soup. Now," Luca ordered, checking his phone.

Twenty minutes later, I was in the passenger seat of his Bugatti, a thermos of soup on my lap.

He drove like he lived-fast, reckless, aggressive.

"Rossi called me again," Luca said, swerving through traffic. "Said you seemed... different today."

"I'm just tired, Luca."

"Don't be. Sofia needs you to be pleasant. She's sensitive."

We arrived at the private hospital wing the Falcone family owned.

Sofia was lounging in a VIP suite that looked more like a five-star hotel room than a medical facility.

She was wearing a silk robe, her makeup flawless for someone who was supposedly "faint."

When we walked in, her eyes snapped to me, then to Luca.

"Luca!" She held out her arms.

He went to her immediately, sitting on the edge of the bed, kissing her forehead with a tenderness he had never, not once, shown me.

"I brought it," he said gently.

He turned to me and snapped his fingers. "Give it here."

I walked forward and handed him the thermos.

"Pour it," Sofia said, looking at me with a smirk. "My hands are too weak."

Luca looked at me.

I unscrewed the lid and poured the steaming liquid into a bowl. The smell of ginger and herbs filled the room.

"It's hot," I warned.

"I'll feed her," Luca said, taking the bowl from my hands without a word of thanks.

He turned his back to me, spooning the soup, blowing on it gently before bringing it to Sofia's lips.

She opened her mouth, her eyes locking with mine over his shoulder.

She smiled.

A victorious, predatory smile.

She thought she had won the King.

I touched the watch in my pocket, feeling the cool metal against my palm.

I didn't care about the King.

I had the crown jewels.

Turning on my heel, I walked out of the room, leaving my husband to play nursemaid to a rat, while I carried his brother's memory out the door.

Continue to next part

For ten years, I disguised myself as my dead twin brother, fighting bloody mob wars to build the Falcone family's bootlegging empire. When the war ended, I thought I could finally take off the men's suits and be Anya again. Instead, my parents stole my victories to secure my father's power, demanding I disappear forever. When I tried to expose the truth, my family dragged me into a soundproof basement. My younger brother forced a metal funnel past my teeth and poured corrosive chemicals down my throat, dissolving my vocal cords into a blistered ruin. They chained me to a freezing pier, whipped me bloody, and let the men I used to lead spit on me as a jealous traitor. Then, under the guise of a family reconciliation dinner, my mother drugged my wine. While I lay paralyzed but fully conscious on my bed, my brother took heavy iron pliers and crushed all ten of my fingers, bone by bone. They wanted to ensure I could never hold a gun or write the truth again. I had slaughtered for them, bled for them, and craved only their love. In return, they pulverized my body and painted me as a hysterical madwoman just to keep the crown I had won for them. The foolish girl who wanted a family died in that agonizing pain, leaving behind only a ghost. Dragging my mangled, bandaged body into the rival Romano family's charity gala, I collapsed at the feet of their ruthless matriarch. "I invoke the sacred code," I rasped through my chemically burned throat. "I demand a Vendetta."

Action Mafia Modern

9.3

Blooming Under His Shadow

9.3

He is power, control, and consequence. She is everything he never planned for. Lucien Blackwell rules his world through silence and precision, dismantling threats before they speak his name. When betrayal from his own family forces him to tighten his grip, the last thing he expects is her-a florist whose calm presence unsettles him more than any enemy ever has. As unseen eyes close in and his shadow stretches across her life, she refuses to be protected through ignorance or distance. Instead, she chooses awareness, agency, and a place beside the danger. Because some things don't survive darkness. They bloom within it. Blooming Under His Shadow is a slow-burn romantic suspense about power, choice, and the risk of loving a man whose world was never built for light.

Mafia Modern Romance

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

8.2

El padre de mis hijos

8.2

After a night of passion with a dangerous stranger, Elena’s life changes forever when she discovers she is pregnant. Years later, her past resurfaces as the powerful mafia leader returns to claim what is his. Caught in a world of violence and betrayal, Elena must protect her children from the shadows of their father's empire. As secrets emerge and enemies close in, she struggles to survive the lethal consequences of their shared history.

Action Mafia Romance

9.2

From Mafia Pawn To The Don's Queen

9.2

It wasn't a gun, but the pen in my hand was going to end my life just the same. Liam, the man I was supposed to marry in a month, pointed to the tablet on his desk. It showed a live feed of my mother’s hospital room. "Sign the confession, Ava," he said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "Take the fall for the embezzlement. Or the funding for her ventilator stops in ten seconds." My heart hammered against my ribs. The crimes weren't mine. They belonged to Chloe, his mistress. But Liam Valenti, the Underboss of New York, was sacrificing me to save her. "She's fragile," he said casually, adjusting his silk cuffs. "She can't handle prison. You're strong. You'll survive." With tears blurring my vision, I signed the document. I signed away my career as a lawyer and my freedom to save my mother. Liam snatched the paper like a prize. He didn't offer comfort. He just smirked. "Good girl. The wedding is still on, of course. You'll look beautiful in the ankle monitor." He walked out to celebrate with his mistress, thinking he had won. Thinking he owned me. But he forgot one crucial detail. I wasn't just his fiancée. I was the one who laundered his money. I knew where every body was buried—literally and financially. The moment the door clicked shut, I stopped crying. I pulled out a burner phone and opened an encrypted app. I wasn't going to jail. I was going to war. I typed three words to the one man Liam feared most. "Execute Protocol Zero."

Mafia Modern Romance

9.7

He Broke Her Heart, She Broke His Bank

9.7

I was the architect of my husband's legitimate empire, the queen to his throne as the Don of a powerful crime family. Our home was our sanctuary, our bed the one sacred place he always returned to. But in the middle of the night, I woke to a woman's moan coming from a guest room that was supposed to be empty. The space beside me was cold; my husband, Brendan, was gone. The woman's voice belonged to Kiya, my protégée—a girl I’d mentored like a sister. Through the door, I heard him call me "a piece of furniture that sleeps soundly." I heard him tell her she possessed something I didn't. Then, a video confirmed the ultimate betrayal: a four-year affair, a pregnancy, and his casual dismissal of me as a business arrangement. He called me a title, but he called another woman's child his heir. He had broken the one rule that held our world together, turning my life's work into ash. He thought I was just a fixture in his grand design, a brilliant mind he could control and discard. He was wrong. There was only one way to escape this agony. I would have every memory of him surgically cut from my mind, erase him from my soul like a cancer, and disappear so completely that not even a ghost of me remained.

Mafia Modern Romance

I Married You For Your Brother’s Face

Chapter 2

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