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 4

The air in the hospital room was thick with the scent of antiseptic and the metallic tang of fear.

I woke up with a throbbing headache and a terrifying hollowness in my gut.

"Mrs. Falcone?"

A doctor in a white coat stood over me. He looked nervous. Everyone who worked for the Family always looked like they were waiting for a bullet.

"The baby?" I rasped, my hand flying to my stomach.

"The fetus is intact," he whispered, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "It was a close call. You have severe bruising on your ribs and a concussion, but the pregnancy holds."

I let out a sob that I quickly stifled with my hand.

"Thank God. Thank Dante."

"Mrs. Falcone... does the father know? I need to update the chart."

"The father is dead," I said flatly.

The doctor blinked, his pen hovering over the clipboard. "But... Don Falcone is in the hallway."

"He is not the father," I said, my voice hardening into steel. "And you will not tell him. If you value your life, you will write 'abdominal trauma' on that chart and nothing else. Do you understand?"

The doctor paled. He nodded rapidly.

The door swung open.

Luca walked in.

He looked... annoyed.

Not worried. Annoyed.

"You're awake," he said, standing at the foot of the bed.

He didn't ask how I was.

"Who died?" he asked abruptly. "I heard you talking about someone dead."

"My patience," I said, staring at the ceiling.

He scoffed. "Stop with the drama. It was a few stairs. You're lucky you didn't break anything."

"I have a concussion, Luca."

"Sofia has a panic attack because of you. She's been crying all night."

I slowly turned my head to look at him.

He truly believed it.

He was so blinded by his need to be the savior, the white knight in a blood-stained suit, that he couldn't see the viper coiled in his sheets.

"I didn't touch her," I said.

"Don't lie to me. I saw her on the floor."

"You saw what she wanted you to see. There are cameras in the hallway. Check them."

"I don't need cameras. I trust her."

Of course he did.

"Get up," he said. "We're leaving."

"I just woke up, Luca."

"Sofia is waiting in the car. She wants an apology."

I froze.

"You want me... to apologize to her?"

"You assaulted her. It's the least you can do to keep the peace. I don't want war in my own house."

I looked at him.

Really looked at him.

He was a giant of a man, powerful, lethal, feared by millions.

But in this moment, he was small.

"Fine," I said.

The fight left me.

It wasn't surrender. It was a tactical retreat.

I needed to get out of here. I needed to protect the life inside me. Stress was poison.

I swung my legs over the bed, wincing sharp breath as the pain in my ribs flared hot.

I dressed in silence.

We walked to the car.

Sofia was in the back seat, checking her nails.

When I opened the door, she looked up with a pout.

"Luca, is she going to hit me again?"

"No," Luca said, getting into the driver's seat. "She's going to apologize."

He looked at me in the rearview mirror.

I met Sofia's eyes.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "I'm sorry you felt the need to throw yourself on the floor to get attention. It must be exhausting being you."

"Luca!" Sofia shrieked.

"Elena!" Luca warned.

"I apologized," I said, leaning back and closing my eyes. "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding. Are we done?"

The car was silent.

Luca started the engine, revving it louder than necessary.

He was unsettled.

He expected me to fight. He expected me to cry, to beg for his belief.

My indifference was a language he didn't speak.

He didn't know that I had already checked out.

I wasn't his wife anymore.

I was just a passenger, waiting for my stop.

Continue to next part

I woke from a five-year coma not to the faces of my family, but to my own death certificate. It was signed by my parents and my fiancé, Dante Moretti, the most ruthless Don in our world. He had sworn on his father's grave to wait for me. Instead, he replaced me with Sienna—the very woman who put me in that hospital bed. My own son, Luca, looked at me with cold, unfamiliar eyes. "You're not my mother," he sneered, hiding behind the woman who wore my face. My parents rushed to shield her, not me. "You must understand the bigger picture," my father said. "We did what was necessary for the Famiglia." But the final betrayal came after Sienna pushed me off a bridge and needed a blood transfusion. My own parents signed the consent form to use my blood, and my fiancé gave the order. "Save her," he snarled. The nurse told me they were ordered to "discard the blood bag after use." As if I were trash. I walked out of that hospital, a ghost in my own life. I took the new identity my old professor offered and vanished. This time, I wouldn't be Elara Bianchi, the tragic fiancée. I would build an empire of my own.

Mafia Modern Romance

7.1

His Mafia Queen, My Substitute Heart

7.1

My perfect marriage to Don Dante Moretti, the most powerful man in the New York mob, ended the moment my father died. I was twenty-four, pregnant with his heir, and I believed I was his queen. But for two days, while I planned a funeral alone, my husband was unreachable. Then a friend sent me a photo. Dante in London, his hand tangled in the hair of the woman beside him. It was my cousin, Valentina. He came home with lies about a dead phone and a difficult summit. That night, I found his private journal, and my world disintegrated. He had married me because I had "Valentina’s eyes." I was a substitute. Our unborn child wasn't a product of love. It was a project. A girl he planned to name Elena, after Valentina, calling her a "perfect, tiny piece of the woman I can never truly possess." I wasn't his wife. I was a stand-in. The love I felt for him didn't just die. It was murdered. The next morning, I slid a folder across the kitchen island. "Donation forms," I said. He didn't even look before scrawling his signature on what were actually our finalized divorce papers. His arrogance was my weapon. As he slept beside me that night, smelling of lies and my cousin, I made an appointment at a private clinic. He wanted a legacy? I would give him nothing.

Mafia Modern Romance

8.6

Reborn as my enemy's contract wife

8.6

Camilia was killed by her cruel Mafia husband after all evidence of rebel and attempted assassination pointed to her. Just when she thought all hope was lost, she finds herself in a new body and a contract marriage with none other than her worst nightmare , Donatello Moreni. This sends her world spinning in unexpected ways putting her in a tough spot with no help and no escape. What happens when Camilia finds out that everything she once believed was a big lie and those you trust the most are the ones who would pull the trigger on you ?

Mafia Mystery Romance

9.3

Sold To The Alphas

9.3

"I was told I was a monster. My father told me I was a pawn. He didn't realize I was a Queen." For seventeen years, Kaia has been locked in a gilded cage, hidden from the world and her own reflection. As the Kentrikos Territory's best-kept secret, she is the White Wolf-a myth, a legend, and a target. Now, her father is selling her to the highest bidder to secure his legacy. The rules were simple: Choose a mate. Secure the alliance. Don't ask questions. But as Kaia is paraded through the four territories to meet her potential Alphas, her sheltered existence begins to unravel. Her wolf, Selah, isn't looking for a mate-she's looking for blood. From the frozen wastes of the north to the high-tech laboratories of the west, Kaia uncovers a trail of secrets. In a world of Alphas, the rarest wolf of all is done playing nice. Kaia must decide: will she be the submissive mate they expect, or the Alpha they should have feared?

Mafia Romance Werewolf

9.2

Tarnished Tyrant - A Mafia Romance

9.2

I got pregnant from a one-night-stand. I wasn't going to tell the father... Until I walked into the office and found out he's my new boss. Here's some advice: Don't sleep with your boss. Here's some more: Don't sleep with your married boss. And while I'm at it: Don't sleep with your married, dangerous, billionaire, completely-incapable-of-feeling boss, because all he's going to do is break your heart and your body and leave you to cry in the ashes. But I've never been good at taking my own advice. In my defense, I didn't know that Nikolai Zhukova was any of those things when we met. I just thought he was the gray-eyed sinner in first class. And when I started having a panic attack at the sudden turbulence, I thought he was the kind soul calming me down. But Nikolai is the farthest thing from kind. He's cruel, he's powerful, he's arrogant. And now, according to the test in my hand... He's the father of my baby.

Mafia Modern Romance

7.7

The Bodyguard Who Stole the Mafia Bride

7.7

Three hours ago, I was the revered Bianchi princess, standing at the altar in a million-dollar gown to seal New York's most powerful Mafia alliance. Instead, my fiancé Julian Falcone didn't show up, publicly slaughtering our sacred pact for a rising actress and turning me into the laughingstock of the underworld. In a drunken haze of humiliation, I used my silent, lethal bodyguard, Damien Moretti, to numb my pain. But the next morning, he didn't just walk away. He showed me a video of my willing surrender and cornered me. "Marry me. Become Mrs. Moretti." My own father froze my accounts, demanding I get on my knees to beg the cheating Falcone heir for forgiveness, or face a fifty-million-dollar penalty. I was stripped of my assets, betrayed by the man I loved for a decade, and sold out by my own blood. I had no choice but to agree to Damien's marriage of convenience to survive. But what terrified me most was my new husband himself. A mere bodyguard shouldn't carry an invitation-only Centurion black card. A mere bodyguard shouldn't be able to terrify a Mafia heir with a single, murderous look. Who on earth was Damien Moretti? With no money and my back against the wall, I was forced to join a reality show alongside my cheating ex and his mistress. They thought they could continue to humiliate the discarded bride on live television. But they didn't know I was walking into this warzone with a monster at my back.

Mafia Modern Romance

I Married You For Your Brother’s Face

Chapter 4

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