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 3

The University Gala was an annual torture I usually engaged in strictly for appearances, a mandatory penance for the sake of the Falcone family image.

This had always been Dante's domain.

He had been the scholar, the diplomat who charmed donors and commissioned libraries, while Luca was the blunt instrument who broke kneecaps in the alleyways.

I wore black.

A floor-length velvet gown hugged my curves, a dark armor designed to conceal the invisible fractures in my spirit.

I stood near the champagne tower, a silent observer watching the elite of Chicago mingle like sharks in a tank.

"Elena."

I stiffened.

Luca appeared at my side, his hand settling heavily on the small of my back.

It wasn't a caress; it was a brand. A claim of ownership.

On his other arm hung Sofia.

She was wearing red. A bright, screaming scarlet that clashed violently with the sombre elegance of the evening.

"Look who decided to come out of her cave," Sofia cooed, sipping her champagne with a predatory glint in her eyes. "I told Luca you probably wouldn't fit into your dress anymore. You've been looking... thick lately."

I instinctively moved my hand to my stomach, then stopped, forcing my fingers to unclench.

"I'm fine, Sofia. Just admiring the architecture."

"Boring," she yawned. "Dante used to love this stuff, didn't he? All these dusty books and old buildings."

Luca's hand on my back tightened painfully, his fingers digging into my flesh.

He hated hearing Dante's name.

He hated the constant reminder that he was the spare, the brute, the second choice for everyone-including his own father.

"Let's eat," Luca gritted out.

Dinner was a farce.

Luca spent the entire meal feeding Sofia grapes from his plate, a grotesque display of affection that blatantly ignored the senators and judges attempting to curry his favor.

I sat in silence, dissecting my steak into tiny, precise squares.

"Excuse me," I said, standing up abruptly. "Restroom."

I needed to breathe.

The restroom was empty, a sanctuary of cold marble and gold leaf.

I splashed freezing water on my face, trying to calm the frantic rhythm of my heart.

The door opened.

Sofia walked in.

She didn't use the toilet. Instead, she leaned against the sinks, crossing her arms with a smirk.

"You know he doesn't love you, right?" her voice echoed off the pristine tiles.

"I know," I said, reaching for a paper towel.

"He keeps you around because of the name. Vitiello money launders better than anyone. But in bed? He calls for me."

"Congratulations," I said, moving toward the exit. "You can have him."

She stepped sideways, blocking my path.

"I don't just want him, Elena. I want the ring. I want the house. I want you erased."

"Then convince him to sign the papers."

"Oh, I have a better way."

She pulled out her phone, tapping it against her chin. "I've been leaking info to the Russians. Just small things. Enough to make Luca paranoid. Soon, I'll plant the evidence on you."

My blood ran cold.

"You're betraying the family? That's a death sentence, Sofia."

"Only if I get caught. And Luca? He's so wrapped around my finger he can't see straight."

She laughed, a sharp, brittle sound.

Then, her eyes flicked to the door.

Without warning, she threw herself backward.

"Ahhh!" she screamed, flailing her arms theatrically before crashing onto the floor. "Elena, no!"

The door burst open.

Luca.

He took in the scene instantly, his judgment clouded by instinct.

Sofia lay on the floor, sobbing, clutching her cheek. Me, standing over her, frozen.

"She hit me!" Sofia wailed. "She said I was a whore and slapped me!"

Luca's face contorted into a mask of pure, unadulterated fury.

He didn't ask what happened.

He didn't look at me for an explanation.

He crossed the room in two predatory strides and shoved me.

"Get away from her!" he roared.

The force was overwhelming.

He didn't mean to push me that hard-or perhaps, in his blind rage, he did.

I stumbled back.

My heels caught on the edge of the plush rug.

I lost my balance.

Behind me gaped the small flight of marble stairs leading down to the lounge area.

I flailed, grasping at the empty air.

"Luca-"

I fell.

My body struck the hard stone steps.

One. Two. Three.

Agony exploded in my side. My head cracked against the iron railing with a sickening thud.

I landed at the bottom in a crumpled heap of black velvet.

The world spun violently.

A sharp, cramping pain seized my abdomen, tearing through me like a hot knife.

"No," I whispered, clutching my stomach. "No, no, no."

Luca stood at the top of the stairs, helping Sofia up.

He glanced down at me.

His eyes were cold, void of any recognition.

"Consider that a lesson," he spat. "Touch her again, and I'll kill you."

He turned and walked away, cradling Sofia as if she were made of spun glass.

He left me there.

Bleeding.

Alone.

I reached for my purse, my fingers trembling so violently I could barely unzip it.

I didn't call Luca.

I didn't call my family.

I dialed emergency services.

"Please," I whispered into the phone, darkness creeping into the edges of my vision. "Save my baby."

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 3

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