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 5

The relentless bass in the VIP section hammered against my bruised ribs, mocking the rhythm of my own pulse.

It was a so-called "Celebration" party.

Sofia had convinced Luca that a festivity was in order-specifically, to mark her "recovery" from the trauma of... witnessing me fall down the stairs.

The irony was thick enough to choke on.

I remained wedged in the corner of the plush leather booth, nursing a glass of ice water that I prayed passed for vodka.

Luca sat in the center, holding court.

His soldiers surrounded him, laughing too loudly at his jokes, lighting his cigars with trembling deference.

Sofia perched on his lap, whispering in his ear, draping herself over him to mark her territory for everyone to see.

"Let's play a game!" Sofia announced, clapping her hands sharply. "Truth or Dare!"

The soldiers cheered. They were already deep in their cups.

"I'll start," Sofia said, her eyes gleaming with a toxic sweetness. "Elena."

The room went instantly quiet.

"Truth or Dare?"

"Truth," I said. I wasn't going to dance for her.

"Boring," she sighed, feigning disappointment. "Okay. Truth."

She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that carried clearly over the music.

"Everyone knows you chased Luca for years. You bought your way into this marriage. But tell us..."

She paused for dramatic effect, letting the question hang.

"Is the man you truly love in this room right now?"

Luca stopped drinking.

He set his glass down with a deliberate clink.

He looked at me.

His arrogance filled the booth. He expected me to say yes. He expected me to confess an undying, pathetic devotion to him in front of his men, validating his cruelty.

He wanted to see me bleed.

I looked around the room.

I saw the soldiers. I saw the sycophants. I saw the monster on the throne.

My mind drifted to the wind-swept cemetery on the hill.

To the worn photo hidden deep in my purse.

I met Luca's gaze.

"No."

The word hung in the air, heavier than the cigar smoke.

One syllable.

Absolute devastation.

The silence was deafening.

A soldier coughed awkwardly, shifting in his seat.

Luca's face didn't change, but his eyes... his eyes turned into shards of ice.

"You're drunk," he said, his voice low and laced with menace.

"I'm drinking water, Luca," I replied, calmly lifting my glass.

"Then you're lying."

"It's Truth or Dare. I chose Truth."

Sofia laughed, but it sounded brittle. "Oh, honey, don't be embarrassed. We all know you worship him."

"Next person," Luca barked, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and pouring a glass that was half full.

He downed it in one swallow.

The game continued, but the air had shifted.

Luca was angry. Not the explosive anger of the stairs, but a brooding, dark storm brewing beneath the surface.

He started losing on purpose.

"Dare," he growled when it was his turn.

"Show us your gallery!" a brave soldier shouted, trying to break the tension. "Last photo taken!"

It was a standard penalty.

Luca threw his phone on the table. "Unlock it."

Sofia grabbed it, beaming. "It's probably a picture of me."

She unlocked it and projected it onto the screen on the wall.

It was a shrine to Sofia.

Sofia sleeping. Sofia eating. Sofia trying on shoes.

The men cheered, relieved. "The Don is in love!"

Sofia preened, kissing Luca's cheek. "See? He's obsessed with me."

Luca didn't smile.

He was staring at me.

He was trying to find a crack in my mask. He wanted to see jealousy. He wanted to see pain.

He saw nothing.

I regarded the slideshow of his mistress with the detached disinterest one might reserve for peeling paint.

"It's getting late," I said, checking Dante's watch on my wrist. "I'm going home."

"Sit down," Luca ordered.

"No."

I stood up.

"I said sit down, Elena!" He slammed his hand on the table, making the glasses jump.

"And I said no."

I grabbed my purse.

"Enjoy your night, Luca. You two deserve each other."

I walked out of the VIP room.

I felt his eyes burning a hole in my back.

Let him burn.

I had a flight to catch in three days.

And when I left, I was taking the only part of him that had ever mattered-the part that belonged to Dante-with me.

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 5

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